Harry Potter and Father Christmas
by samhaincat
Summary: Harry has a close encounter with Father Christmas. ootp spoilers


A/N: At first I was going to choose Winter Wonderland as the theme song for what was going to be light fluffy story but then I heard this song and it has angst and portrays a lost hope in everyone you believed in and somehow it suited Harry after everything he went through at the end of book 5. But no worries this does end with hope and warmth and love. This British song has a lovely melody and you can listen to it online if you search for "culprit one father Christmas" It's a nice remake of it and fellow Canadians you will have heard part of it on TV on Bell cell phone commercials.

Disclaimer: None of it is mine, it all belongs to the wonderful JKR.

Big Thank you to Staporize for beta'ing this for me!

**Harry Potter and Father Christmas**

"_They said there'll be snow at Christmas  
They said there'll be peace on Earth  
But instead it just kept on raining  
A veil of tears for the Virgin's birth  
I remember one Christmas morning  
A winters light and a distant choir  
And the peal of a bell and that Christmas Tree smell  
And their eyes full of tinsel and fire_

_They sold me a dream of Christmas  
They sold me a Silent Night  
And they told me a fairy story  
'Till I believed in the Israelite  
And I believed in Father Christmas  
And I looked at the sky with excited eyes  
'Till I woke with a yawn in the first light of dawn  
And I saw him and through his disguise_

_I wish you a hopeful Christmas  
I wish you a brave New Year  
All anguish pain and sadness  
Leave your heart and let your road be clear  
They said there'll be snow at Christmas  
They said there'll be peace on Earth  
Hallelujah Noel be it Heaven or Hell  
The Christmas you get you deserve"_

I Believe In Father Christmas

©1977 by Emerson, Lake and Palmer, Text by Greg Lake and Peter Sinfield

Harry Potter's heart was heavy as he got off the Hogwarts Express. He hugged Hermione goodbye and put on a cheery smile for her sake because he knew she would worry about him otherwise. She was a good friend and she deserved a Happy Christmas. She would be going to Ireland to spend Christmas with her parents. He had wanted to stay at Hogwarts, but the Weasleys and especially Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall and Hagrid had all insisted that he go. He had, like a wearied warrior, tried desperately to suppress his pain and sadness over Sirius' death, but somehow they all saw through his act. The only person who broke through his façade, however, was Snape. He hated him even more than he used to, and because of his outburst against the Potions Master, he had earned himself more detentions than he could count. He was extremely glad he wouldn't have to see the slimy git for over two weeks. He wished Neville and Luna both a Happy Christmas as they got off the train. Malfoy glared at him but for once he didn't say anything, perhaps worried he'd be turned into a slug again. Narcissa Malfoy looked unsteady on her feet as she greeted her offspring.

Harry turned away as he felt a hand on his arm and looked in Ginny's dark gaze. "Ready for some holiday cheer, Harry?"

He smiled wryly and nodded as he headed toward the elder Weasleys. Ginny was worried about him. The contrast of his black hair made his face look even paler and he was beginning to rival Malfoy with his complexion.

His green eyes held a terrible inner anguish most of the time. She had made it her goal to snap him out of it during the holidays.

Molly Weasley immediately enveloped him in a bone-crushing hug. "Harry dear, we are so glad you'll be spending the holidays with us."

"Thanks, Mrs. Weasley." He smiled at her as she released him.

"Good to have you with us, Harry," Arthur Weasley agreed, slapping him lightly on the shoulder.

They drove to the Burrow and a thick mushy snow had started to fall.

Ron was very excited. "We can go sledding! There's a great hill not far from the Burrow."

"Not until you've helped me decorate the house, Ronald Weasley."

"Yes, mum." Ron made a face at Harry, causing him to smile,

"Fred and George should have arrived by the time we're there," Arthur explained.

"Bill and Charlie won't be able to come till after Christmas," Molly added sadly. No one mentioned Percy for fear of sending Mrs. Weasley into a fit of tears.

They arrived at the Burrow to find the twins hanging garlands. They beamed pleased smiles as they ushered everyone inside. A huge 12-foot tree stood in the living room.

"Isn't it grand?"

"Boys, it's beautiful!" Molly said, her voice all choked with tears as she hugged them both.

"Ron, please go up into the attic and get the boxes of decorations. Harry dear, can you come into the kitchen? I need you to sample some cookies I baked this morning." She smiled at him warmly.

He followed her and sampled the wonderful selection she put out before him. "They're all great."

"Eat as many as you'd like, dear."

"Found them mum," came Ron's voice from the living room.

"Good. Ronnie can you put them down by the tree? Children and Arthur, I want you all to start decorating while I make a batch of gingerbread cookies."

They all started taking out the decorations. Some were delicate and came from Molly's grandmother. Others were homemade but just as special in their own way.

"Hey look Ginny, here's the one you made of Harry in your second year."

Ginny looked up in alarm, her face growing a rather bright shade of pink.

"Well yes, I thought since he was your friend he should be hanging on the tree." Her voice faltered noticeably at the end.

"Well, Hermione is my friend too and you never made one of…" Ron was cut off by Harry's elbow in his ribs. "What?"

Harry shook his head at him. He glanced at Ginny who was disappearing into the kitchen.

He peered more closely at the ornament that she had made. It was a small figure made out of clay and it featured a boy with black hair on a broomstick. Seeing it made him smile. It made him feel warm to think that all of these years a representation of him had been hanging from the Weasley family's Christmas tree.

When Ginny came back out looking less pink, he went over to her and told her that he liked it, earning him a smile in return.

Molly came out with a huge plate of gingerbread people with all of their names on them. A lump formed in Harry's throat when he saw his gingerbread man with Harry written on it carefully with green mint icing.

"You're part of our family Harry," she said warmly.

He couldn't speak but looked at her nodding. She seemed to understand and patted his arm as she continued to pass out the cookies.

A fire roared in the fireplace and the whole house smelled of balsam fir and cookies. There was laughter and happy voices, yet somehow Harry couldn't relax and enjoy it. It was almost as if there was a wall around his heart and he was unwilling to let it go. When the Weasleys stared to sing "Silent Night," an unbearable ache welled up inside of him. He quietly went and grabbed his coat.

"Harry, where are you going?" Fred yelled over the singing. Everyone immediately stopped.

"I have to go outside…I'll come back later," he responded hoarsely, his eyes wide and haunted.

He tore out of the door and into the dark, snowy night.

"Oh dear. Ron, will you go after him?"

"No Molly, Ron, leave him alone for a little while. He needs some time to himself. Remember one year ago he had his godfather at Christmas and now he's gone. The holidays bring the grief to the front of the mind; he has to deal with it. If he's not back in twenty minutes, one of us will go find him," Arthur spoke up.

"If you think that's best, Arthur." Molly, with worried eyes, looked at the door after the boy she thought of as one of her own.

Harry stumbled out into the snow and walked through the gardens that summers ago he had helped rid of gnomes. Months of suppressed fear, grief and anger welled up in him. He kicked at the old driftwood fence then sat down behind it, burrowing his face in his hands. He shouldn't have come. He didn't belong here, souring everyone else's Christmas. He didn't even want to think of Christmas let alone celebrate it. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, taking deep shuddering breaths. He wasn't going to lose control. He wouldn't let that happen. He spent all these months since that horrible day last summer keeping his emotions in check. He wouldn't break. He was Harry Potter, prophesied saviour of the light. He wouldn't break. Yet the veil of tears threatening to spill over was breaking through one drop at a time. They made their way down his cheeks and fell into the cold snow below. His shoulders started to shake and he gasped raggedly for air. Finally his resolve crumbled and he found himself crying into his hands as he sat in the cold snow. He kept seeing Sirius last Christmas and cried for all the lost Christmases he could have had with him. It came slowly and softly and at first, in his anguish, he failed to notice it. Warmth slowly enveloped him and a light shone past his closed eyelids. He opened his eyes to find what he at first thought was Dumbledore sitting in the snow across from him.

"What are you doing here?" he choked out. It was then that he realized though his bleary eyes that the man wasn't Dumbledore. He was much shorter and rounder and he wore robes of silver and blue.

His eyes, however, were very similar to those of the headmaster; they too were light blue and twinkled.

"I'm always around at this time of year," he said in an amused tone.

Harry sniffed, wiping his face on his sleeve. "Who are you?"

"You're a smart boy. Can't you guess?"

He narrowed his eyes at the stranger who had intruded on a very private moment. He shook his head.

The man looked concerned. "I'm Father Christmas."

Harry laughed. "Seriously, who are you really?"

The man frowned. "Seriously, I am Father Christmas."

He grew angry at this man's persistence at claiming who he was. "There's no such thing!'

"Why would you think that?"

"Because Father Christmas brings gifts to children and all the years while I was growing up at the Dursleys I never received a single gift!"

"Ah yes, that is true. But tell me, Harry, if I had brought you a gift would your Uncle Vernon have let you keep it? He doesn't believe in me and he would have known that the gift didn't come from himself or your Aunt Petunia, therefore it must have been magic and would have to be destroyed."

Harry still glared at him resentfully, but his green eyes widened a bit when his Aunt and Uncle were mentioned.

"Besides Harry, I couldn't give you what you most desired: the gift of love and friends and a family. Those are the most important things and you have those now."

Tears welled up in the green eyes again as Harry shouted at him, "My godfather is dead!"

"He may not be physically with you, but he and others you have lost who love you are always near you. But you have people right now who love you, but you are too wrapped up in your self to see that."

"I thought," he took a deep breath. "I thought I had people, but some of them lie to me. Nothing I believed in is real."

"Everyone makes mistakes, but if we love someone the mistake can be considered as a betrayal of the worst kind. But you aren't being fair, if the mistake was based on love."

Harry blinked furiously, thinking of Dumbledore.

"My godfather died because of that mistake."

The old elf nodded, "Decisions were made that were of our control. Don't weigh yourself down with all this self-loathing and pain and hatred, your road needs to be clear.

Harry grew quiet, thinking about what he had said.

"Christmas is about love and hope, not sadness and pain. Go back now and let your family give you the Christmas you've been longing for all these years. Believe me, all those who you have lost will take great joy in seeing you happy again."

Harry swallowed hard.

"There is woman on the porch waiting for you, go to her now and let her help you.

For a moment the light feather touch of a hand rested on his dark head, then was gone. He looked up to find himself alone. He blushed a few times to clear his eyes, but could see no impact in the snow from where Father Christmas had sat.

He got up and headed back.

Mrs. Weasley, with a thin shawl wrapped around her, was pacing the porch. "Oh Harry, there you are."

"I'm fine, really." He looked at the wall, feeling embarrassed. "Sorry I ran off like that."

She put her arms around him the moment he stepped onto the porch. He let her hug him, relishing the feeling of having someone in his life that thought of him as a son. His head fell onto her shoulder, exhausted by what had just transpired. She gently patted his back. "It will be all right, don't you worry. Everything will work itself out. We're all here for you."

He pulled out of her embrace, "Thanks."

"Harry, I know how much it hurts remembering last Christmas, but you need to make new Christmas memories, special and fun memories."

He brought his eyes up hesitantly to look into hers. He couldn't tell her how much he worried that he would do just that and then one by one Voldemort and his Death Eaters would kill everyone he cared about.

As if sensing how he felt, perhaps because she too had that same worry, she added softly, "You can't stop what may happen – none of us can. All we can do is unite against the darkness as best as we can."

He remembered when he had seen her boggart turned into the lifeless bodies of many of those she cared about.

He nodded hesitantly.

"Come inside now and straight to bed. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve and it will be a full day of family fun, all right Harry?"

He smiled at her softly, "Thanks for including me in it."

She stopped and looked at him intently. "You are part of this family, Harry. If Professor Dumbledore hadn't insisted on giving you to those horrid muggles, we would have been happy to raise you as our son. Nevertheless, even though you are almost grown you are a very important, loved member of this family. Understand?"

Harry couldn't suppress the pleased smile that crept onto his face. No one had ever wanted him as part of their family. How different his life would have been if he had been raised by the Weasleys. Ron and all the other boys would have been his brothers, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, his parents. He would have been loved. He thought of Ginny for a moment. She would have been his sister. Something didn't feel right there.

They went inside and the tree sparkled beautifully.

"Harry you all right?" Ron asked, concerned.

"Yeah, sorry I tore out of here like that, I just wanted to be by myself for a bit."

He glanced at Ginny whose dark gaze looked concerned. He blinked hastily and looked away, wondering if his eyes were red from his breakdown outside.

He mumbled a quick 'goodnight' to everyone and retreated into Ron's room.

He fell into a sound sleep and didn't even hear Ron enter later on.

The following morning offered a winter wonderland. It had snowed profusely overnight and everything gleamed silver lit by the hazy sunlight that streamed down.

"Come on, let's go sledding!" Ron shouted.

They put on their coats and scarves and grabbed the old wooden sleds that were up in the loft in the barn.

The air smelled crisp and wonderful. It was cold enough for Harry's breath to show when he talked. They walked through the deep snow up the hill and then chose the steepest part to go sliding down. They went racing down the hill but suddenly Ginny's sled hit something and threw her off. Harry quickly rolled off his sleigh and went back to her. She was shaking snow out of her hair.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes. Damn it! Fred got to the bottom first. I really wanted to beat him!"

He chuckled. He loved her feistiness, never letting her brothers get one over her.

She glared at him. "What? You think it's funny? I could have beaten him you know."

Harry smiled, amused. "Of course you could have – I have absolutely no doubt. But you don't have to get upset over it; you can beat him next time."

She relaxed and smiled back. "And I will."

As they walked back up the hill she kept glancing at him. His cheeks were flushed red; bits of snow were in his black hair; his black lashes startling against his pale skin whenever he blinked. He looked at her when he realized she was staring. She blushed slightly.

"So Harry, what happened last night? You were obviously upset."

His stomach clenched at her words. He stuttered slightly, "I , I don't really want to talk about it."

She nodded, "Then it must be about Sirius."

His gaze grew stony and he focused intently on the hill they were walking up. They came to clearing near a large grove of evergreens.

"You know, you haven't talked about him all semester. You must miss him, especially now at Christmas, considering you spent last Christmas with him and all of us.'

He stopped and looked at her. "Ginny…"

"I know, you don't want to talk about him, but Harry, it's bad when you keep things bottled up. You _need_ to talk about it. You need to share those happy memories. I promise, they'll make you feel better."

He didn't respond. He wasn't sure if he was angry that she wouldn't let it rest or if he was touched that she was so concerned.

"Remember how he pranced around singing 'God Rest ye Merry Hippogryphs?' He was so funny," she remembered, smiling.

"He was so full of life," Harry murmured in agreement.

On an impulse, she threw her arms around him. This startled him at first. Aside from Hermione and Mrs. Weasley hugging him and his brief relationship with Cho last year, not many people actually ever touched him with affection.

He hugged her back gently, savoring her warmth and closeness.

"I never really told you how sorry I was that he died. You shut yourself off so much this fall, it was hard getting you to say two words to me let alone have a whole conversation."

"I'm sorry about that, I'll try not to do that again," he said quietly. "I still miss him a lot, you know."

"Oh Harry." She hugged him tighter.

He put his head down on her soft, sun-kissed hair. "I'm ok. Ginny. Sorry I've been such a git."

"You're not and you never could be," she exclaimed, pulling back from him.

"There you are. We wondered were you both had gotten to." George smiled and he, Ron, and Fred came between the trees.

They spent the rest of the morning tobogganing and finally made it home with rosy cheeks and tired smiles.

Mrs. Weasley had hot chocolate ready for them and they sat around the fire to warm up. Harry found himself having fun. In the afternoon, he and Ron played an intense game of chess. Afterwards, Ginny talked him into helping her bake some shortbread cookies. Much to Fred and George's amusement, he let Ginny put an apron on him that stated 'Kiss the Wizard.' They spent the better part of an hour blowing him kisses and laughing hysterically until Ginny gave them some raw dough. They grew quiet as they crammed it into their mouths. Harry had fun baking the cookies, sampling almost as many as went into the tins. At one point Ginny suddenly stopped and stared at him. He looked at her wide-eyed, "What is it?"

She pointed over his head. He looked up to find mistletoe hanging from the ceiling.

"It's tradition, Harry," Ginny declared as she reached up to lightly press her soft lips to his.

He blushed slightly and she smiled and went back to the cookies.

Later, dinner was noisy and delicious. The two eldest Weasleys had conjured up a wonderful feast of smoked salmon, cheese and onion tarts, artichoke dip and chips and for desert a lovely chocolate concoction that rivaled those made in Switzerland with their decadence.

Before chasing them off to bed, Mrs. Weasley made them hang their stockings near the fire; Harry looked at his with wonder and found a lump in his throat again. He had never had a stocking. The only time he had ever even held one in his hand – Dudley's – he was immediately hurled into the broom closet and denied Christmas dinner. He had been 6 then and had cried himself to sleep.

"Ginny made your stocking, Harry. Do you like it?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

The stocking was green with a red Quidditch player stitched on it; the figure was obviously a seeker as a little golden snitch hovered in the air. He looked at Ginny with gratitude shining out of his green eyes.

Once again Harry slept through the night without any nightmares or disturbing dreams. He awoke in the morning and joined the Weasleys in an excited rush to the tree. There were jumpers from Mrs. Weasley, and an assortment of toys from the twins' joke shop. One three-foot-long, brightly wrapped present in particular caught Harry's eye. It was wrapped differently than the others. He noted on the tag it was addressed to him. He opened and gasped. It was a large black hairy dog. With shaking hands he held the stuffed toy and saw a tag attached to the collar around its neck. It said Padfoot. He trembled as he stared at it.

"Harry who is it from?" Ginny asked, softly putting her hand on his shoulder.

"I don't know," he responded hoarsely.

Just then Father Christmas' words echoed through his mind: "He may not be physically with you, but he and others you have lost who love you are always near you." He was real, he did exist, and this was from him. He held it close. Ginny's arm went around his shoulders and she stroked his arm reassuringly.

When he cleared his throat she realized he had gained control again and she sat back.

"Are you ok?" she asked quietly so no one else would notice.

He nodded. "It's like Sirius."

"It's beautiful, Harry."

He took a deep breath, "It's a great gift." He turned finally and smiled at her.

She noticed the anguish in his eyes was gone. He seemed more content and more peaceful.

Ron came over and looked at the dog. "Bloody hell! That's Snuffles! Who gave you that?"

Mr. Weasley came over and before Harry could answer he responded, "A gift from Father Christmas. That's special, Harry."

"I know."

"Father Christmas? Come on dad, he doesn't exist," Ron snorted.

"Ronald Weasley! How could you say such a thing!" Mrs. Weasley shouted at him.

Ron cringed a bit; he hated being yelled at. "Percy said so years ago."

"You should have told us. I didn't know he was spouting such nonsense to you all. Ginny, did he tell you that too?"

"Yes mum, but I never believed him. I believe in Father Christmas."

Harry turned towards her in amazement. "Have you ever met him?"

She shook her head, "No, but that doesn't matter, I know he's out there."

Harry decided to tell her about his encounter in private later.

The family moved into the kitchen to help prepare the dinner but Mrs. Weasley insisted Harry and Ginny stay and relax in the living room and play some of the games that Fred and George had brought.

Ginny watched as the young, black-haired wizard got up and headed over to the fireplace. He sat down on the hearth and stared at the flames. She joined him.

"Before, when I asked you if you had ever met him, it was because my first night here when I went outside, I actually met him," Harry began tentatively.

Ginny's eyes lit up and she moved closer to him. "What was he like?"

He proceeded to tell her a little about what had happened, but he left out the part where he had broken down. Her eyes grew rounder as he described their meeting.

"Wow! You are so lucky. I don't know of anyone else who has ever met him. It was really nice of him to give you the dog. He must obviously know everything about everyone."

"I guess so."

She grinned, "That must mean that Malfoy will get coal in his stocking this year."

Harry laughed, "Thanks for that, it feels good to laugh."

She grew serious. "You deserve to laugh and be happy."

Just then Mrs. Weasley peeped around the corner. "Are you two hungry? Because it's time to eat."

The smells of roast Christmas goose that had been coming out of the kitchen made their stomachs growl. They leapt up and headed for the kitchen.

"Ginny," he said as he lightly touched her arm.

"What Harry?" she asked, stopping to look at him.

A small mischievous smile formed on his face as he pointed upwards.

She looked up and noticed the mistletoe.

"It's tradition, Ginny," the green-eyed wizard whispered as he shyly stepped closer and gently kissed her lips. She hugged him tightly after and he hugged her back listing to the sounds of laughter coming from people who were now a part of his family. For the first time since before Sirius' death he again felt loved and cared about. His heart filled with warmth and his soul felt light.

The End

"_I wish you a hopeful Christmas  
I wish you a brave New Year  
All anguish pain and sadness  
Leave your heart and let your road be clear"_

I Believe In Father Christmas

©1977 by Emerson, Lake and Palmer, Text by Greg Lake and Peter Sinfield

_**A happy magical Christmas Eve to all!**_


End file.
